Sunday Morning
by sakicchi
Summary: Semi-AU. PruCan if you squint and crain your neck./ Sunday Morning, and there's something delicious in the air! /Sucky summary. Rated K. Sticky, sweet, Maple Syrup not-even-fluff fluff.


_-wipes cobwebs away-_ Yeah.

First Hetalia fic! A Prussia/Canada fictrade with and dedicated to my Prussia, rebeckon. Based on Track 11 from Prussia's Drama CD, a cracky RP we did, and the fact that I had pancakes drenched in maple syrup one morning.

Done WAY BACK on August 14, only posting it here now. Can be found at my deviantART and my LiveJournal, too.

**Rated:** K.

**Warnings:** Uh, pancakes, maple syrup, and Prussia's awesome ego?

**Summary:** _Sunday Morning, and there's something delicious in the air!_

**Disclaimer:** Hetalia, Matthew Williams and Gilbert Beilschmidt (c) Hidekaz Himaruya. I do, however, own a bottle of Maple Syrup and some pancake mix.

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_******Sunday Morning**_

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"So, why are you here?"

"West kicked me out for the time being." A gruff voice replied to the question. His hands were clasped behind his silvery mop of hair, ruby eyes glancing around the house as the two walked. "I don't know, something about redecorating and him not wanting me to get in the way." That silly brother of his; with the presence of his sheer awesomeness, renovating any room wasn't needed!

His companion and owner of the house was a young, blonde, lilac-eyed man with a pair of lenses and silver frames to outline them. He exhaled wearily. "But, why my house of all places, eh? Aren't you buddies with France or Spain?"

"Antonio's being a stingy bastard, and I don't even want to think of what chaos that could ensue if I stayed with Francis." The man moved a hand to his hip and waved the other flippantly, adding, "I don't think Elizaveta or Roderich are willing to let me stay with them, either." He continued on down the invisible list of other nations he either didn't like, or wasn't liked by – the latter being utterly ridiculous. Who _wouldn't_ like him?

"But, you don't mind me staying, right? Right?" An expectant look was sent the blonde's way. "I mean, if not, I could always bunk at a hotel or something… Alone…" He paused. "I mean, I'm cool with being alone, s'not like I'll get bored or anything…" His ramblings continued and droned to mumbles.

He had no idea if it was the polite manners he honed over the years, completely unlike his southern brother, or if it was that aspect of… What was that feeling in the man's eyes? Isolation? Or yearning? Couldn't be; not with this certain person, at least. Either way, the slightly shorter of the two shook his head and gave in.

"Alright, Prussia. You can stay."

The guest made a gesture of delight – or triumph – and followed the other to the guest room on the second floor. Waltzing in and tossing his bag at the foot of the bed, he flopped down on the fluffy mattress and sighed in contentment. A cherry wood dresser with a mirror lined the left side of the room and a matching chest, pub table and chair adorned the right. A bedside table with a small lamp sat on the left side of the bed. Needless to say, the room had a warm and welcoming feel to it. Heck, the whole house seemed to. A two storey log cabin tucked neatly within a dense forest of Northern Ontario was where the blonde called home, and the nearest town was quite a few kilometres away. Normally, Prussia wouldn't have minded the trek through the woodland. But, Germany – Prussia's younger brother, _affectionately_ nicknamed West – just had to spruce up their house right when it was the middle of winter for the Northern nation, making the journey _flippin' cold_ and snowy.

"Make yourself right at home, eh? You must be cold from that hike up here; I'll go make some hot chocolate."

The nation turned to leave, not hearing Prussia mutter about the fact that he trudged through two feet of snow, especially without the proper winter attire.

As he sat there for those few minutes, taking everything in, he failed to notice the soft padding of paws on the hardwood floor. Prussia snapped out of his thoughts once the creature produced a sound that sounded oddly like, "Who?"

Prussia looked down at the white animal – a small polar bear to be exact – in confusion, until it enquired more clearly, "Who are you?" What a silly question! Everyone should know who the great Prussia is!

The white headed nation smirked and leaned over the side of the bed so he was eye-to-eye with the fluffy bear. "I'm Gilbert Beilschmidt, the Kingdom of Prussia! Don't forget it!" Even his little yellow chick that sat upon his head chirped in certainty.

But, the bear just stared blankly at the boastful man before blinking and padding out of the room as quickly as it had come.

Gilbert scoffed. Dumb bear. However, he decided to follow it, ending up in the kitchen where the blonde homeowner was preparing the hot cocoa. He noticed his guest peek in and stated that he was almost done. "You can go sit in the living room if you'd like."

Prussia flopped down on the couch, close to the fireplace to warm up his cold limbs. The other nation sauntered in with a tray of three mugs and that furry polar bear trailed behind, anxiously looking up at his master in wait for the chocolate liquid. Setting it down on the wooden coffee table, he picked up one of the cups and handed it to Gilbert, who took it gratefully. He set another on the floor for his pet, who began lapping it up eagerly, and took the last for himself.

It was a pleasant Saturday evening. The two sat by the light of the hearth, conversing over the crackling fire about past events and future ones for hours. At a quarter past twelve, they called it a night, and prodded the sleeping bear awake and away from his spot at the foot of the fireside, then retreated to their rooms for a good night's rest.

Though, his sleep didn't seem to last as long as it usually did, as Prussia was awoken by a stream of sunlight across his narrow crimson orbs, causing him to grunt and roll over, as well as the smell of something delicious. His nose couldn't resist. He yanked a simple grey t-shirt over his messy, snow white hair and pursued that mouth-watering scent.

It lead him, yet again, to the kitchen, where the blonde was once more, flipping some flat, round, fluffy pastry-looking things over a set of table-top griddles. He poked his head in further, sniffing the air. This was where the yummy smell was coming from!

"Hey, what are those?"

His host glanced up from placing the doughy looking things on three plates and smiled at Prussia's perplexed expression. "Pancakes."

"Pan… Cakes?"

He watched as the other spread a square of butter on the top of the stack of five or six flat, yet thick, cakes. He placed them, along with a steaming cup of coffee in front of Gilbert as he sat down at the kitchen table. Just as he was about to dig into the scrumptious looking hotcakes, the blonde stopped him. "You have to add this!" He declared, and set down a glass bottle of some sticky-looking, auburn-tinted liquid. He read the label. "…Maple syrup?"

The other nation nodded cheerfully. "Brings happiness to anyone who eats it."

Prussia pondered for a moment on that statement, and subsequently uncapped the bottle and took another whiff. Sweet and sugary! He didn't hesitate to pour it over his appetizing breakfast. Stabbing the pancakes with his fork and cutting a few smaller pieces with his knife, he fervently shoved them in his mouth. Gilbert chewed slowly, as if to savour the syrup-covered cakes. They tasted as sweet as his favourite caramel toffee and as sugary as angel food cakes, but far better. And much more awesome; almost as awesome as Prussia himself. It's like he had died and rose to hotcake heaven! He contentedly sighed as he sat back in his chair after devouring the whole feast.

"Canada! You are brilliant! West couldn't possibly make anything this awesome, and that's saying something."

The young nation blinked in surprise, then flushed and laughed softly, scratching lightly at his cheek. It's not everyday someone complimented him on his cuisine, _and_ remembered his name right off the bat; the latter truly making him happier.

"Thank you, Prussia."

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Goodness, this is so cheezy and lame. :I Make of it what you will.

**-Saki**


End file.
